Day 2: Busticogan Camp to Little American Falls

I got up around 0530 to see the sun rise and to have an excellent cup of coffee. While I was writing down my impressions of the trip, a small raptor, probably a sharp-shinned (Accipiter striatus) or Cooper's (Accipiter cooperii) hawk swooped at head-level through our campsite. Mellie was aghast and jumped up to investigate, but the bird was gone in a flash.

I roused the boys at 0740 for an oatmeal/granola/raisin breakfast, which they wolfed down. Like yesterday, it promised to be a hot day. We broke camp and were on the water by 0930. Today's pairings were James and Noah and Joe and me.

It felt quite a bit warmer, probably because of the higher humidity. Joe pointed out an animal in the water, it was lighter colored than the otters we'd see later, so probably a beaver or muskrat. We stirred up a deer, when we paddled by just steps from where it was drinking. It melted into the thick undergrowth.

The river is flanked by dense second-growth forest with few interruptions and hardly a mud, sand or gravel bank. Only rarely some rock formations remind of the proximity of the Canadian Shield.

Muldoon Rapids. 

Muldoon Rapids were a welcome diversion. Marked on the map as a Class II, it was still fairly tame. Joe and I had one hangup where we needed to get out of the canoe. We got the canoe off the rock, straightened out and hopped back, making it through the remainder of the rapids without further ado. James and Noah got stuck in a similar way but were also able to extricate themselves.

The deer flies seemed worse today. We noticed that they seemed to be attacking in swarms, either in the vicinity of riffles or when we came too close to overhanging trees. Joe's bare back became bumpier and bumpier from the many bites and poor Mellie let me pick the flies from her face. when I called out to her she would lean towards me to let me take or swat at the flies.

We took a quick break at a rope swing where Joe insisted to jump into the waist-deep water. He decided it wasn't worth the effort to climb up the muddy bank again for a second try. Later we heard that James and Noah had stopped, too.

Joe, on top of Little American Falls.

We made it to Little American Falls, the only portage of the trip by 1500 or so. The July 2 storm had taken down many large trees in the area, including two across the portage trail. and several more into the campsite. We started our portage with some trail clearing, cutting the branches off the top side of one tree and beneath the second. 

A little trail clearing is in order. 

The camp site was lovely but unfortunately overgrown with poison ivy. We would have to be very careful. I told everyone to avoid Mellie, who was hard to keep out of the stuff ...

After Joe and I had finished our portage, we prepared for a dip in the water. That's when James and Noah arrived, full of stories of their adventures from today's leg. After they finished their portage and we pitched the tents, we were finally ready to jump in.

Little American Falls. A campsite with a view, in
spite of the poison ivy. 

Little American Falls is a great location for all manner of water fun. The boys swam across the top of the falls and found a place where they could jump off the rocks. I waded and swam across below and climbed up to explore the camp site, hoping to find a source of water. No such luck, we would have to find some tomorrow since the 8 gallons we started with were nearing their end.

Tonight's dinner consisted of brats on a bun, the last of our perishable items. Like the previous night's chops they came across very well.

After dinner the boys took Joe's Grumman to fish the opposite side of the river. Noah, who is quite experienced, caught two 30+ inch muskies in half an hour. The first one got away when James and Joe came back for the camera. The second one was returned to the river after having been duly appreciated, photographed and and measured.

As I was getting camp and myself ready for the night I needed to get down the steep river bank several time, following a rocky ledge. While jumping down, I felt a jab of pain in the ball of my foot. A glass splinter had pierced my Croks and while I pilled it out from the sole of the shoe, I single big blood drop formed under my foot. It could have been worse, it was sort of like the lancet to take blood from your finger. I only wonder whether the splinter had been at the camp, or whether I had picked it up some time beforehand. I also found a little piece of half-burned scrap lumber with the following inscription in black marker: www.thebigforkriverrunners2.blogspot.com June 25 2011. I checked it out, it's kind of a funny blog.

The boys sat around the fire till about 2130 or so and I heard voices drifting from across the river, too. The owners of the one occupied site had come back, maybe? By 2200 everything was quiet except for the rushing of the falls and by 2300 I had finished the book I was reading and turned off my light.